Nightmares
by Pikeru's Angel
Summary: Chekov never told anyone about his nightmares, and especially never mentioned the subject... Rated T for minor curse words like, twice total and mentions of abuse, with just a hint of graphic, but not much.
1. Bump in the Night

_"Eets you fault she's gone! Zou should have known!"_

_A young Pavel Chekov sat in the corner of the room, weeping. Weeping over the pain as his father (he's stopped being Papa long ago) hit him. Weeping over the fact that his sister was dead; shot by a bully at her school who had been tormenting her for months. Weeping because this wasn't the first time he had ended up balled up in the corner of his room, trying to block out the feeling of the blows landing on his head and back._

_His father was drunk, he knew that much. He usually was, but it was worse now. If Anya hadn't gotten killed…_

_No! He wouldn't blame her for his punishment! He deserved it anyway. He'd known. Known for a while, in face. He should have told someone. Maybe then she'd be alive. And he wouldn't be getting the beating of his young life._

_Andrei* picked up his son by the back of his collar, his eyes burning with a fierce rage Pavel had never seen, and almost sadness too, but he must have been imagining that._

_"Eets zour fault my baby girl is gone."_

_He felt more than saw his head hitting the wall, and the blood dripping down into his eyes. And then, darkness._

Chekov woke with a start in the darkness of his room on the Enterprise, a cold sweat covering his brow. He sighed, and sound palpitating as he ran a hand through newly slick hair. This was the fourth time that week, and he didn't even want to know what ungodly hour he'd woken up this time.

His roommate, Sulu, slept peacefully on the other side of the room, oblivious to his friends night terrors. Though he would never admit it, Chekov envied him. He was as close to perfect as a guy could get. Good looks, charming, and seemingly nothing wrong with his life. Of course everyone was screwed up, just a little, Sulu was just… less screwed up than most people.

Chekov, on the other hand, was "cute", awkward around most people in general, and was just about the second most screwed up person on the ship, probably only topped by their captain.

He sighed again, realizing sleep wouldn't be coming again any time soon, just like every other night. As quietly as he could, Chekov got up, walking out of the room. Maybe he could go down to sickbay and get a light sedative from one of the nurses. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

A few groggy, stumbling and nearly-getting-a-concussion minutes later, Chekov was on the lift, leaning against the wall. He almost didn't notice when the lift doors opened. And he very nearly didn't see who was still in sickbay too.

"Sheet!"

Of course Doctor McCoy was there! Why wouldn't he be in the one night Chekov decided to ask for a sleep aid? The universe hated him, after all, so it has to put up one, not-so-tiny obstacle in his way of getting a good nights rest.

Chekov quickly tried to press the manual button that would shut the doors before the southern man caught sight of him, but alas, he was to chose the exact moment the lift doors opened to turn around, catching the Russian teen just as he muttered his cure.

"Pavel!" He exclaimed in slight surprise. "What're you doin' up?"

Chekov felt a light pink spread across his cheeks. "I just needed a minor sedative, Doctor. I-I've been having a beet of trouble sleeping lately."

The older man nodded in understanding, walking over to a nearby shelf and grabbing a vial for a hypo, silently gesturing for the teen to take a seat on a biobed as he did so.

"Why the trouble? Too many quantum physics equations runnin' around that skull of yours?" McCoy chuckled at his own joke as he loaded the hypo.

Chekov shuddered as he remembered his earlier dream. His father… Blood… Anya's voice ringing in his ears not to tell anyone even though she was gone…

He shook his head to clear the memories from his mind, hoping McCoy hadn't noticed he'd just been staring off into space for those few seconds. "Da, zat must be eet."

The CMO nodded, seeming to accept the excuse.

"Zank you wery much, Doctor." Chekov said, his timing only moments before the hypo was administered. McCoy paused.

"Vhat?"

"Nothing, nothing," McCoy said with a dismissive flick of the hand. "I've just always wondered; why do you pronounce your v's like w's? Last time I checked that ain't normal for an accent like yours." Chekov merely shrugged, hoping against all hope he looked nonchalant.

"A slight speech impediment developed vhen I vas a child*. I could never quite get reed of eet." Yes. A speech impediment. Nothing at all to do with nearly ten years of abuse.

McCoy raised an eyebrow, sensing the teen wasn't telling the whole truth, but said nothing, administering the hypo. "Alright then. Why don't you stay here tonight? These thing work-" He was cut off by the soft _thump_ Chekov's body made as it hit the mattress.

McCoy silently chuckled to himself, bringing the thin sheet on the biobed over the younger mans shoulders. It looked like he wasn't getting much choice in staying over-night then.

* * *

When Chekov woke the next morning, it was slowly and without an alarm buzzing in his ear.

The lack of alarm in itself was enough to send quite a few red alerts going off in his head, but he ignored them, instead curling up into a slightly tighter ball and moaning slightly. He could barely feel the hand that immediately landed on his shoulder.

He did, however, notice the slightly southern accented voice above him.

"Pav. Pav! Come on, kid, wake up. Don't do this again…" Blue-green eyes forced themselves open, met with the worried hazel of Leonard McCoy.

Chekov yelped, sitting up as his heart rate skyrocketed. "D-doctor!" He tried to control his breathing, though semi-failed. "V-vhat…?"

McCoy sighed in relief. "I gave you that sedative you asked for and you conked out in five seconds. Maybe I should have used one that took longer to knock you out…"

"Vhat time is eet?"

"About 0900 hours. Why?"

The Russian's eyes widened. "I'm late!" He scrambled to get out of the biobed, but McCoy pushed him back.

"Relax, kid. I told Jim you wouldn't be comin' in today. How long has it been since you got a good nights rest, anyway?"

Pavel shrugged. "Zhree, maybe four days." McCoy merely looked at him with a sort of gob smacked look. "Vhat?"

Silence, if only for a moment.

"Why didn't you tell anyone about these nightmares sooner?"

Chekov blanched. Crap. Had he…? Oh no. Well, that explained McCoy's original reaction to the moan at least.

"Zhey've been going on for years. Eet's never really effected me before, so I never mentioned eet." Or did he just not want to re-live childhood terrors? Probably, but the answer he'd given made sure things weren't pressed.

"And what are these nightmares about?"

Well…

Double crap.

"Nozing. Can I go please?" Chekov was already standing up, making his way for the lift doors. Before he could get there though, there was a firm hand grabbing his wrist. He froze, and the grip loosened. Neither moved.

"Eets nozing." Chekov whispered again, but he could feel the tears welling in his eyes and the cracking of his throat. It wasn't nothing. It never had been, and never would be.

McCoy pulled him closer, back on the biobed, and sat down beside him. He gently stroked the bronze curls, trying to calm the now sobbing teen. "Shh, shh. It's okay, Pav. Just forget about it. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." _But now I'm curious, and I will find out eventually,_ said some small part of the CMO's brain. He ignored that part.

"He used to beat me."

The words were small, barely audible amongst the tears, but McCoy heard. It didn't even take a second to put two and two together. Hopefully he was getting four and not six.

"Your dad?" The kid nodded against the spot he had adopted on the older mans chest, clutching the medical blues like a life raft. "You sure you don't wanna talk about it?" Chekov sucked in a sharp breath, but said nothing. Simply sat there, shoulder's shaking and tears streaming down blotchy red cheeks.

"Eet started vhen I vas four, I zink. I don't know vhy, but my _father_-" The word was spat out like bile. "-had been an alcoholic since after I vas born. I guess he just… snapped zen.

"Eet got vorse vhen I got older. I think the vorst he got though vas vhen I vas ten. My sister, Anya, had died at a school shooting. She vas my only older sibling, and ze only girl in ze family too. She vas getting bullied, and it vent too far. I think he blamed me because I knew and newer said anyzing." His breath hitched for a second, and McCoy took the pause as time to ask one of the many burning questions.

"Where was you mom when all this happened?

"My parents vere divorced. Momma got my two leetle brothers and my father obviously got me and Anya. Momma didn't know about it."

Bones pulled him in closer. "Oh, Pasha… What happened to your dad?"

Pavel swallowed, silently thanking that no one was seeing this except McCoy. "He died from alcohol poisoning vhen I vas elewen. Best day of my life vhen I got to live vith my momma and brothers." Bones had to stop himself from physically punching a hole in the wall there. A kid should never be happy when their parent dies, especially not an eleven-year-old.

"And then Starfleet when you were thirteen?" The CMO questioned.

Chekov nodded. "Enlisted ze day after my birthday." He sat up, wiping as his eyes with the back of his hand, standing up and heading toward the lift. This time, McCoy didn't try to stop him.

"Zank you."

The two words echoed around the near empty sickbay, and McCoy couldn't help the small, sad smile that came across his face. The kid would be okay, eventually.

* * *

*I would like to thank my first two lovely reviewers for correcting me on Chekov's dad's name. Thank's for the info! *lightly smacks self* Bad fan!  
*Mispronouncing the letter v doesn't happen when speaking with a Russian accent (take it from someone who does the accent rather well herself), which would mean that it's a speech impediment. I just made it so it wasn't a natural speech impediment. ;)

A/N: Oh, I'm just full of this kind of stuff lately. This, and major fluff. Wow, I'm screwed up.

I started this fic at roughly 1:30am off an insomnia induced idea. I finish it for you now at around a quarter-to-four. I deeply apologise for any and all errors made because of my lack of sleep, and feel free to correct/nag.

Also, there is a little sort of half-epilouge thing that isn't here. It's around 300-500 words long, but I wasn't sure if I should add it or not. Should I do a second chapter with that little epilouge?

Thank you for taking the time to read this. And, for all the androids out there (kudos to the TNG fans that get this), domo arigato Mr./Mrs. Roboto. (Seriously, listen to the song and you'll get it. If you watch TNG, anyway)

~Piki :B (Wow! Another lucky story with the signed A/N! I blame my lack of sleep.)


	2. Okay

McCoy walked through the halls of the _Enterprise_, fully intent on getting to the Bridge before his stubborn Russian patient. He'd told Chekov to go back to his room, that he had the day off, and that he should use it to catch up on lost sleep. Of course the teen didn't, going in the exact opposite direction of the lift. McCoy wasn't sure if he was just going to a different lift to try and fool him, to his room like he's been told (unlikely at best), or to the botany lab. If the country doctor had to guess, the kid was on the Bridge right that moment, relieving whoever had taken his place and apologizing to Kirk for being so late. The kid was just that kind of nuts.

But when he arrives on the Bridge, fully ready to chew someone out, he mildly disappointed to see that Chekov isn't there. Which means he's back in his room with the hypo full of the good stuff (and he means the _really_ good stuff. The stuff where you're so out so couldn't dream if you tried), off into sweet oblivion. Good boy. As long as the sedative does it's job correctly -because he wasn't suppose to be able to dream with that first one either, now that McCoy thinks about it- he'll be fine and well rested the next morning.

So he just walks on to the Bridge, and just sort of stands next to Kirk's chair. No one questions his presence; they know it's a slow day in sickbay and he comes there when he gets bored. The only one that even minutely reacts anymore is Jim, and he just stiffens and gets this sort of "Oh crap, please don't hypo me for your own amusement, Bonesy" look on his face, because they both know Bones would do that in a heartbeat whenever he gets to. But, unfortunately, he doesn't have any hypos on him, but reaches into a pocket and puts on a mildly sadistic grin just to freak out his captain a bit anyway. He damn well deserves it.

Finally, Jim relaxed, realizing his CMO had just pulled a very good bluff, and glares. McCoy stares innocently off at nothing. The Captain wouldn't be getting a word.

And then, something occurs to him. Chekov's nightmares happen often, and have been getting even more frequent because of some unknown reason. Maybe he should tell Sulu, just so the kid has someone to wake him up on bad nights. Yeah, that might be a good idea.

"Can I borrow your helmsmen for a minute?" Jim looked up, mildly surprised. Usually Bones would walk in, observe for maybe fifteen minutes, then go back to sickbay and finish up whatever paperwork he'd been putting off. Then again, he didn't usually walk in looking about ready to chew some unlucky patient (such as himself, or Scotty) a new one.

So Jim just shrugged. "Sure." McCoy nodded, walking over to the Asian man, grabbing him by the shoulder and practically dragging him to the lift, pressing the emergency button so they don't move anywhere.

No one even batted an eyelash.

"Why?" Was all Sulu said, just a little miffed at being taken from his post so suddenly.

"Can you do me a favor?" Sulu blinked. This was… un-McCoy like. And they weren't even on their way to sickbay yet, which, luckily, meant he wasn't in for it. Still, this was weird.

"Sure…?" Half "what the hell?" half "yeah, whatever you want". The perfect response.

Bones bit his tongue for a second, trying to find a way to word it without giving anything away. He was pretty sure Chekov wasn't about to tell his roommate jack shit until he was damn well ready. Hell, he probably wasn't even ready when he told _McCoy_. Yeah, nice bit of guilt to put on there.

"Keep an eye on him for me. If you even hear a _sound_ that isn't normal for someone asleep, wake him up, okay?" At Sulu's puzzled look he offered nothing more than a simple "don't ask," with an implied "or I will kill you."

Sulu said nothing, though his lip twitched slightly. "Any suggestions?"

"Just… don't call him Pasha. I don't care if you can't think of any other way, don't even mutter it." McCoy involuntarily cringed, hand going just under his short ribs. That bruise would take a while to heal.

"Alright Doc." The helmsmen said, pressing the emergency button again so the lift started moving back to the Bridge.

That night, Sulu kept an ear out.

Not because he was worried -because Pavel would have told him if something was wrong-, but because he was curious why _McCoy_ was. The man was naturally paranoid, just a bit, but more often than not he was right. It usually wasn't good when he was. Or at least it wasn't good for their Captain.

He didn't fall asleep, though he pretended to be, for Chekov's sake. The Russian didn't notice, which only made Sulu more curious. Chekov noticed everything, especially little things like irregular breathing, but he hadn't. Maybe McCoy had been right.

So he watched, silently, as his friend tossed and turned in bed, clearly awake. It was around two that Sulu got worried. Not only had Chekov not fallen asleep yet, he hadn't asked Sulu why he was still awake, which meant he didn't _know_ that he was still awake. That wasn't Chekov.

By three he was finally asleep, curled up in the fetal position facing the wall, completely still. If Sulu hadn't seen a slight rise and fall in the sheets (the blanket had been kicked off a good half hour before) he would have thought the teenager was dead.

It was at four when it started.

Just a whimper at first, but louder than a red alert in the silence.

Sulu got up, slowly and silently, and walked over to Pavel's bed, kneeling down and gently touching the bronze haired teens shoulder. Chekov flinched violently, a strangled cry filling the air. Sulu recoiled sharply, sucking in a sharp breath. Okay, McCoy had had good reason to be worried. Very, very good reason. Had he already known? It would explain why he had asked in the first place.

He leaned over the bed again, careful no to touch anything. "Chekov? Pavel? Pavel, wake up. Come on buddy, McCoy'll have my ass if you get up," he pleaded gently.

A groan, and Chekov turned to face him, eyes flickered open. "Vhat, 'Karu?" He mumbled sleepily, apparently not knowing what had just happened. Either that, or he was playing innocent. No one could ever tell.

"'Karu. I like it." He paused, realizing he was getting off topic. "You were having a nightmare. What kind of roommate would I be if I didn't wake you up from your own personal Hell?" He smirked slightly, though tiredness shone in his eyes.

"Lights zirty percent." The light flickered on, just bright enough to be able to se. "How long have you been up?" Guilt flickered across the younger mans face, but Sulu would have none of it.

"I couldn't sleep. I was worried about you, you know. You've been lookin' just about ready to keel over these past few days." A shrug. "Don't worry about it. I do it because I care." Blue-green eyes blinked in confusion, as though unfamiliar with the words. Sulu felt his chest tighten at the though.

He sat on the bed, flinging one arm over his friends shoulder, pulling him in a bit closer. "Wanna talk about it? That always helps me." Chekov laughed; a short, slightly bitter sound that Sulu almost didn't believe came from the Russian.

"Vhy vould you need ze help?"

"Well, there was this one time, after the whole Narada thing. Did you know I have acrophobia? It's a fear of heights or falling." Chekov looked genuinely confused now, and just a bit shocked too. "It was nice to talk to an aviaphobe about it though. McCoy really does need to do something to help with that." And this time, they both laughed, and Chekov didn't ask why Sulu hadn't talked with him.

"Seriously though, if you need to get something off your chest, I'm always here for you. Always." Chekov looked down, embarrassed, and his shoulders hitched slightly.

"Zank you, 'Karu." And Sulu just pulled him in tighter. Whatever was going on in that big genius head, it couldn't be good (or "healthy", as a certain country doctor would point out), and Hikaru was determined to get to the bottom of this little mystery.

It didn't take long.

"Did I ever tell you about my father?" A simple, harmless question, but there was so much hidden behind the words.

"No. Your mom, and your baby brothers, but never your dad. Or the time you lived with him, now that I think about it." Of course Chekov had mentioned his parents divorce, and how he lived with his dad for eight years before he'd died. Car accident, he'd said. Drunk driver, he'd said. Only the drunk part was true.

"He… didn't take Mama's leaving too vell. He-he started drinking. Vhen I vas zhree, I zink." He paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. 'Karu took the opportunity to bring him in closer. "He vas drunk a lot. Out of vork by zee time I vas four. My older seester made zee money, vorking after school." This was much more than he'd told McCoy. As close to the full thing as anyone would probably ever get, the only person knowing everything being his mama, of course.

"Anyvay, he vasin't in his right mind a lot. I never blamed him for vhat he did. Maybe I should have." Sulu listened carefully, patiently, giving small squeezes on the shoulder when his friend voice cracked even the slightest. He wondered how many times Chekov had told this story, and realized almost as quickly as the thought popped into his head it was near none. "My older seester died vhen I vas ten. School shooting. No vone ever thought she vas a deliberate target.

"She vas getting bullied. I knew, but I never said anyzing. I zink zats vhy he hit so hard zat time; vhy he actually broke some of zee bottles and used zose. I knew, but I never said anyzing. If I had, she vould probably be alive today. I don't zink I'll ever forget zat day. Zose scars never healed." He shivered, as though cold, and Sulu brought him in even closer to his chest, not at all caring about the wet spots spreading across his pajama top.

"He ended killing himself zee next year. Alcohol poisoning." A pause. "Does eet make me a horrible person if I didn't call an ambulence until I knew he vas dead?" They both froze, though Chekov still shuddered against the heat of the room.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Sulu spoke. "No. No, not at all, Pav. You were a kid. You were being abused. You didn't want that to continue, simple as that. You know what would have happened if you kept him alive? You'd still be in his custody. You might never have gone into Starfleet, and we would have never met. You might not even be alive today if he were. _I_ might not even be alive if you hadn't done what you did. Hell, _Earth_ might not even be here! You did the right thing." Pavel sobbed against his chest, clutching at his shirt like a drowning man would a life raft.

"Did I really? I may as vell have killed him! A vew times I had to go to zee hospital. A couple times I passed out. How does zat compare to two people dieing because of me?" He wrenched himself away, standing over the bed, breathing heavily.

And then he collapsed.

Onto his knees, head in hands. "Don't lie to me. Eet's my fault." Sulu flipped down, sitting down in front of the distraught seventeen year old. Facing old demons would probably be the single hardest thing he'd even have to do, and Sulu intended to help him through it.

"I'm not lying to you, Pav. It was never your fault. Those other people killed your sister not you. Your dad was the alcoholic that drank too much, _not you. _It's not your fault!" And all was silent again.

Pavel nodded, once. "Okay." He didn't believe the words, but it was a start.

"Want me to grab a sedative from sickbay for you? I can tell McCoy you need another day off too."

"Okay."

Sulu smiled, just a little. "You're gonna be okay. You know that, right? I'll make sure you are."

And Chekov smiled a little back. "Okay."


End file.
